


no better to be safe

by Kate_Reid



Series: Time And Again [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Universe, Character Study, Conversation, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 00:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17254499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Reid/pseuds/Kate_Reid
Summary: After the events of TLJ, Rey and Kylo Ren have gone their separate ways, but the Force keeps bringing them back to one another. Their bond grows as they share their hopes, fears, quirks, doubts and insecurities. Their lives become more intertwined with each encounter, leading them to a swell of emotions that bridges the galaxy and their expectations of themselves.Inspired by and woven through with a-ha's "Take On Me."





	no better to be safe

 

It didn’t go away. They kept seeing each other.

Both understood that Snoke was to be given no credit in this thing.

No, Snoke was nowhere between them. He was behind them, just as dead as he’d been left in the throne room. Once Snoke’s corpse had borne witness to the swift, near-silent unity of their offensive against his Praetorian Guard, his relevance evaporated.

This was where they were now, even a galaxy apart, separated by the thinnest of veils.

Kylo saw Rey astride an ancient speeder bike like those from his mother’s tales. The Resistance must have fled to another one of those old Rebellion bases like Crait. Only instead of the rattletrap speeders he’d seen carving bleeding paths through Crait’s white salt, here were speeder bikes cutting through much greener terrain. Rey’s face was joyful as her skillful piloting bested those behind her.

Kylo breathed out upon his realization that she was not actually in danger. It was a friendly race, just a tiny bit of fun to break up the tension of constantly being on the run.

Rey saw Ben dressed in nondescript clothing, lingering over a cup of caf in a diner on some backwater world where the face of the Supreme Leader of the First Order was yet unseen. She watched as he bent over some cheap datapad he’d bought on the street, drinking in the news and gossip of the day as far as it was known on this world. His location was far enough removed that news of Crait was brand-new and thus a bit skewed or just flat-out wrong, given Kylo’s supreme scowl. Rey’s attempts to stifle her chuckles were a bit too unsuccessful for Ben to ignore.

*******

There they were again. Rey reclined on a cot in yet another undisclosed location. Kylo rested on a passably comfortable bed in a no-frills travelers’ inn whose slogan promised to leave the light on.

At this point, they’d already said so much to each other, even during the time immediately after Crait, when neither could understand the other’s choice.

Kylo had left Rey in possession of pieces of himself which he’d long thought abandoned, each of which came back to sting him as he watched the Falcon’s door close. Rey had left Kylo with the power of her desire to join him, even as she turned away, stung by every tiny shard of what he’d offered her.

Their mutual sting did nothing to ease the inevitability of their finding each other, despite neither having any idea what to say.

In spite of that, or _because_ of it, both Kylo and Rey simply said the first things that came to mind. Rey’s chief complaint about her present location was the insectoids that kept biting her. She was cagey about the exact type of insectoids, because she didn’t want to give clues as to where she was. Kylo was annoyed that none of the diners seemed to have his favorite tea, so he was drinking lots of caf.

Rey secretly feared sounding too unsophisticated for someone like Ben, who was surely used to all sorts of exotic galactic travel and probably would never let anything as unglamorous as _bugs_ get in his way.

Kylo worried that he would seem too much the spoiled brat to someone like Rey, who he knew had endured all manner of hardship simply to make it to adulthood and would probably never complain about a lack of beverage options.

Nevertheless, the two always found each other in their quiet moments. Despite the feeling of peering through a veil, each was convinced that the colors were much brighter on the other’s side.

Ben was vivid as Rey saw him through the Force; even the small visible bit of his surroundings seemed to take on greater detail and color in her eyes.

Kylo’s first inclination was to dismiss tricks of the light when he saw Rey in front of him, rendered crystal-clear and sharp-edged.

If each felt overcome by their encounters? Each would never let the other know how much they were affected. Each shied away in turn, trying to play it cool, regardless of their knowledge that the Force made a joke of any such pretense. Each stumbled away from every single meeting, nearly overwhelmed by the effort of attempting to conceal such strong feelings.

Somewhat contradictorily, though, both slowly learned to regulate their emotions to a point where the other’s presence was simply a sign that life was going on as it should. They reached a place where they could banter comfortably.

Rey found herself amused by Ben’s affinity for slumming--staying in cheap hotels, dining at low-priced restaurants, drinking in sketchy cantinas. She also suspected that the First Order had no idea where their Supreme Leader was or what he was doing.

Ben’s contradictions fascinated her--the power that seemed to emanate from his very bones was rather poorly hidden under a shabby cloak. Yet he knew exactly how to talk and act in the low-rent establishments through which he seemed to slide effortlessly. One night, she shared that thought with him as he finally allowed himself to relax in yet another very basic rented room.

Kylo smirked and scoffed, even as he felt his cheeks flush when the warmth of her gentle laughter washed over him.

Rey didn’t think she’d ever not be delighted at seeing Ben in surroundings that might be somewhat short of worthy of the Supreme Leader of the First Order. In that delight, though, was something significant, a tiny bit she probably shouldn’t have been privy to. As she gently ribbed Ben about slumming, it was all too obvious to her that the way he carried himself came from his mother. Leia Organa, despite her willingness to endure extremely difficult conditions, was still every inch the princess. Though her realm was lost and she’d never be a queen, she’d raised a Crown Prince, despite Ben’s own desperate desire to break from his upbringing.

But Ben wasn’t really that easily explained. Leia Organa’s majesty was bone-deep, still. Remarkably, though, its source wasn’t the obvious one. She was adopted into the royalty of Alderaan, yes. But the royalty of Naboo was in her very blood. Leia was the true daughter of a true queen, even if Naboo’s royalty was elected, not hereditary. And so, Leia’s son was doubly royal.

Ben’s biological grandmother’s air of authority came to him naturally, by chance, an accident of genetics. But his innate sense of command, his competence, his expectations that his orders would be followed? Every one of those had their origins in House Organa and his mother’s training. He’d grown up watching the ease with which Leia achieved her desired ends.

Through many conversations, Rey found out enough about Ben to understand him more. Rey’s experience of Leia Organa’s sheer force of will and expectation that things would simply get done the way they needed to be? She saw that in Ben, too, albeit expressed very differently. Where others would dismiss his reactions as immature tantrums, she understood that Ben simply had limited experience of things _not_ being the way he wanted them. And, when things did not go the way he’d envisioned, the results were not good.

Now, while she had insight into the reasons for Ben’s behavior, Rey did not at all condone it and never hesitated to convey her disapproval. While they could discuss Leia with relative ease, Ben’s father was a much more difficult topic. It took quite some time before Han Solo was not the cause of several rather bitter arguments that culminated in Rey literally turning her back on Kylo while the bond was open.

Rey had had her own ideas of things and was fairly unsurprised to learn that she’d been right. Ben held himself like a prince because he _was_ one. But his ease in low society came from nowhere near the royal houses of Alderaan or Naboo. No, that toughness among the worst of the worst was pure Corellian, straight from the handsome rogue who was still present in every quirk of Ben’s smirk.

Finally, one night while Rey huddled in a bunk on the Falcon and Kylo was back aboard his flagship in the familiarity of his quarters, Ben’s dam broke.

So many things tumbled out in a rush, accompanied by visuals that Rey realized were actually memories of Ben’s. Her heart squeezed when she saw twelve-year-old Ben, lanky, awkward, floppy-haired and big-eared, piloting the Falcon for the first time, Han beside him in the co-pilot seat and Chewbacca behind him looking on approvingly.

“I don’t even remember where we were going,” Ben said softly. “I _do_ remember being on strict orders not to tell my mother.” He chuckled a little. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the sad, broken sound he’d expected when he felt the laugh in his throat. There was genuine amusement and fondness there. “And I _do_ remember running through a spaceport, because we suddenly had to leave _very quickly_.”

Rey must have looked alarmed, because Ben rushed to assure her. “No, no. I thought it was the most exciting thing ever. Certainly more fun than staying at home and having my lessons with the other Senators’ children.”

Ben couldn’t help but sense the subtle shift in Rey’s mood, even as she laughed at the mental image of Ben joining his father and Chewie on a patented Solo Mad Dash. Her amusement was tinged with wistfulness.

Loneliness was the first thing Kylo had found in her mind when he’d attempted to pull the map from her memories. Her sense of aloneness wrapped around every part of her being, stretching only slightly thinner where it passed over her thoughts of Han Solo, Chewbacca, and the deserter, FN-2187.

Kylo’s own feelings of isolation had suddenly seemed cheap and self-indulgent next to Rey’s. Because he’d been made to feel small and wretched, he’d lashed out, insulting his father. He’d been irrationally angry that it was Han Solo who’d helped her realize it was possible for her not to be alone, when it was Han Solo who’d helped Kylo realize that he felt alone even when surrounded by his family.

Rey had been angry with Ben about Han, probably still was a bit, if she was honest. But Ben had just shared a treasured memory of his father. Through their bond, she felt something new from him--he’d surprised himself with the fondness and love that accompanied his reminiscence.

While Rey had known that Ben’s family was obviously a touchy subject, she also knew that her _lack_ of a family felt touchy to him. To be fair, he probably found it touchier than she did--she’d had years to come to grips with her situation. It stood to reason, she supposed, that his creeping guilt would manifest this way. How could he--a perpetrator of patricide, a man who’d made galactic war on his own family--look an orphan in the eye?

Well, whatever way he came around to it was fine. But Rey made a point of not softening the difficulties she’d faced. He’d need to figure out how to deal with himself--Ben’s demons weren’t Rey’s to manage. She had enough on her hands with her own.

Ben had been truthful when he said he wanted to know all about her. He was surprisingly receptive to stories of her life on Jakku. Sometimes he was unable to conceal his horror at the way she’d had to live. However, her matter-of-factness quickly put an end to his pity.

Rey’s life was Rey’s life, for better or worse. And she was here now, with him. Ben found that Rey lived very much in the present--truthfully, he had to admit that she’d done a better job of killing her past than Kylo had his. She hadn’t forgotten it, but she didn’t dwell on every bygone hurt. If she did, she said, she’d do nothing but that.

Mentally, Kylo corrected himself after she told him that. She hadn’t killed her past--she’d _conquered_ it and now stood victorious atop its ruins. Each of her experiences contributed to her foundation and raised her. In his worse moments, Kylo wondered if she wasn’t entirely above his reach.

She was spectacularly self-reliant. Having fended for herself in a cruel desert most of her life, she had to be. At a heartbreakingly young age, she’d found out that if she didn’t fight for herself, nobody else would. Almost paradoxically, her self-reliance made her fiercely protective of others. Kylo wondered at that--how could someone who hadn’t grown up with a family or even had any friends until relatively recently be so staunchly loyal, so willing to put herself in the path of any harm that was on its way to her friends?

As he grew to know her, it became clear. Rey’s life on Jakku made her used to defending the few shabby things that could rightly be called hers--the fallen AT-AT she’d called home, the parts she scavenged from the wreckage left by the Battle of Jakku, the meagre possessions she held dear. So when Rey met _people_ she could care for, they also became hers to keep safe.

Surprisingly, Rey’s stories of her formative years weren’t all bleak. Kylo found himself laughing uproariously at her anecdotes of Niima Outpost and her impressions of the traders, merchants, and more questionable types who were constantly coming and going.

Rey really enjoyed making Ben laugh. The first time she did was by accident. But once she’d seen his face open, unguarded, given to nothing but mirth, she’d tried harder, because she had to see that carefree look on his face just one more time. So she’d found herself putting on voices and making faces and embellishing her Niima Outpost stories just that tiny bit.

Ben’s smile was a contagion that Rey had no idea she’d have to inoculate against. She had no defense. But neither did she want one.

Kylo _knew_ that he let his guard down when he was with Rey. Because she’d come to him so unfiltered, Kylo’s fascination overrode any of his instincts toward caution. He set up halfhearted defenses of his mind.

Maybe he should keep her out. Well, yes. He definitely should. But could he bring himself to do so? That was debatable. Could he bring himself to care?

Rey had taken over all of his senses, really. Her presence was so, so bright, at any time he encountered her. She’d made him forget himself, made him feel like someone else. Maybe someone good?  
Could he be someone good? Kylo found himself wanting to be.

At the same time, though, he knew that she had no responsibility for him, and didn’t want to force that on her. He did know, though, that she filled a gap for him. Rey was the parts of existence that Kylo had been denied, either by himself or Snoke. Simple companionship was one of them. The pleasure of having someone to talk to was novel.

Their conversations were extensive, spanning everything and nothing. Both Rey and Ben had been starved for a confidante, and once they found one in each other, neither could shut up. Physical sensation, then, seemed almost secondary to the fragments of their souls they traded so freely. However, touch was another thing Kylo had been denied.

He couldn’t remember the last time a hand had been laid on him in kindness before his father’s on Starkiller Base. But that didn’t bear dwelling upon. And really, with Rey, touching seemed trivial when there was so much to know, to discover.

When they interacted, it was like they were in the same room. They were even susceptible to atmospheric conditions in the other’s location. Though the bond seemed to be fairly physical, both of them had been hesitant to _test_ it. They’d spent countless hours lying beside each other, but hadn’t touched. Unspoken between them was the near-electrical jolt both had felt when their hands touched. That spark promised something thrilling, important, and a little dangerous.

And really, what remained after Ben and Rey had flung wide the doors to their vaults of memory and thought? The mental, the ephemeral, the abstract, the incorporeal had all been satisfied. What was left _but_ the physical, the tangible, the solid, the sensuous?

Rey hadn’t forgotten Ben’s broad, bare, sturdy chest and would have been lying if she claimed that his body hadn’t taken up residence in her dreams, both sleeping and waking. For his part, Ben couldn’t close his eyes without thinking of Rey in the rain, droplets of moisture clinging to her and making her shine.

So many things he said made her want to hold him. This was a new and different emotion, beyond the protective feelings she had for her Resistance compadres. Rey wanted to touch Ben, to comfort him. And, if she were utterly honest with herself, she wanted to see and feel as much of his body as he would allow. Never had she been more thankful for the lack of a handy cowl.

Kylo wanted to touch Rey. There were few things he wanted more than to hold her in his arms and tell her she never had to worry about anything ever again. Because that was all in his power now that he was Supreme Leader, yes? But he’d be lying to himself if he limited his thoughts to a chaste touch of comfort. Every single time she’d come before him, he’d desired her--the beautiful steel in her face as she tried to put a blaster bolt in him on Takodana, the reckless abandon with which she hurtled toward battle (both on Starkiller, fighting against him and in the throne room, back-to-back with her, moving in silent coordination)--was irresistible to him.

But neither knew how to even begin to broach the subject. Pent-up frustration became a feature of their meetings. The first to boil over was Rey. She’d been in her quarters, tinkering with an old comm unit she was sure she could get working again. Just as she found the frayed wires that had caused a short, Ben appeared in her peripheral vision. Rey looked up to greet him and suddenly found her own wires fraying and shorting out.

He wore nothing but a pair of form-fitting black shorts that she assumed were what he wore under his clothing. Ben’s pale skin was damp, glistening, and a little flushed. His hair was pulled up off his face, which gave Rey a perfect view of his ears reddening as he noticed her presence.

He reacted just as he had when she’d caught him shirtless seemingly ages ago. He didn’t flinch under her gaze, didn’t rush to cover himself, just looked back at her.

Rey, for her part, did _not_ react as she had before. Instead of averting her eyes or requesting that he locate a cowl, she simply stared. It dawned on her that at that moment, she could actually see all of him. Literally, yes--the shorts didn’t leave much for speculation, but figuratively, too--the scars strewn over his body told some of their history. The mark of Chewbacca’s bowcaster shot was visible on his side. And the scar that belonged to her slashed over his face and extended to his shoulder. She’d unintentionally left him a souvenir he’d carry to his grave.

Kylo did his best to keep his muscles relaxed as she appraised him silently. His body was something he’d only ever thought of as a tool, a means to achieve an end, just a vessel made to be filled and used by the Force. Absurdly, as he felt Rey’s eyes raking over him from light years away, his uncle’s claptrap about “luminous beings” suddenly sprung to his mind.

“Ben,” breathed Rey, tools dropping from her suddenly slack hands. Her own face was heating, and she was sure her blush rivaled his.

Rey had said his birth name hundreds of times before, but this time was somehow different. There was just the slightest catch in her voice. That, together with her dilated pupils and the lovely pinkening of her cheeks, told him of the effect he had on her.

“Rey,” was all he could think to say in reply.

His voice was so deep as her name rumbled through his chest. Before she knew it, Rey had stood and begun walking toward him. Ben moved toward her, too, drawn nearly magnetically. They met in the middle, at a rather disorienting place where Rey could see both her room and his, overlaid on each other. The double vision of their surroundings was making her dizzy, so she concentrated on his face, her decision heavy on her mind. This was it. She’d very deliberately walked out of her safety to join him. Her heart gave a little jump of fear, but she ignored it. Better that than to regret it forever.

Inches away from him, she stared up into his eyes and he stared down into hers. This close, she could smell him. He must have just finished a workout; his sweat smelled fresh, not sour and rancid. She could have breathed him in forever.

The last time Kylo had been this close to Rey, she’d turned her back on him and left. He couldn’t bear to spoil it again. He concentrated on his breathing to keep it steady. Catching her clean, outdoorsy scent on every inhale didn’t help with that.

Neither was shying away now. Each held out their hands for the other to clasp. At the moment Rey’s skin touched Ben’s, the Force hummed and buzzed and rippled between them. If their brief touch of hands so long ago had been a spark, this was a shockwave.

For long moments, they simply stood silently, clutching each other’s hands, gazes locked together. Then, simultaneously, they decided they had to be closer. Rey’s arms rose to wrap around Ben’s neck. His arms closed around her waist. Rey nuzzled into Ben’s bare chest, then peeked back up at him. He looked back at her, his eyes soft and affectionate. Slowly, hesitantly, she stretched up onto her toes and he bent down. Their lips met somewhere in the middle.

The kiss was quite brief and very chaste, just a small brush of lips. They parted, both tingling all over, breath and heartbeats in the same rhythm. However, they were both keenly aware that they were still literally light years apart. Their contact through the Force was startlingly real, but the sensations were just that tiniest bit off, just very slightly out of phase.

Rey was the first to speak after their kiss. “I think we’ll be leaving here in a day or two,” she said breathlessly.

“Tell me where to find you. You know I’m coming for you, don’t you? Any day or place you name.” Rey found that the rumble of Ben’s voice was even more tantalizing when she could actually feel it.

“You know I still won’t tell you our location. I’ll meet you elsewhere, though. Maybe at that inn that leaves the light on?” Rey suggested.

*******

He waited in a clean, comfortable room at the budget travelers’ inn he favored. He knew she was coming for him.

When the door slid shut behind her, the modest lodgings became their entire universe, full of nothing but each other. When she took his hand, they pierced the veil together.

Their connection through the Force had seemed so long ago now, and so very real, but it was a mere echo of this.

Here, his intense dark eyes burned even hotter as they swept greedily over her. She felt singed but glowing.

Here, the fierce sweetness in her smile hit his heart even harder. He absorbed the blow but stayed standing.

Ben tugged Rey close to him with the hand she’d taken. They pressed together, finally having come round to the same side of the mirror. She whispered his name; he felt it more than heard it. His answering sigh of her name fell over her like warm rain.

Each had privately worried of sudden awkwardness. There was none. Their arms twined around each other and the Force wrapped around them both. It could have been strange. It wasn’t.

Every time the Force had brought them together before, they’d done nothing but talk and listen to each other. Consequently, very few words were necessary now.

This was the time to indulge their other senses. Because the Force let them share sensations, speech was superfluous.

He felt her marvel at the solidity of his chest. His soft laugh stirred the hair on the top of her head as he saw her picturing some particularly stubborn blast doors from one of the hulks she’d scavenged on Jakku.

She wondered at his oddly complex love of her scent, which was actually a new thing. Since leaving Jakku, she reveled in water baths and showers wherever she could find them. When General Organa noticed Rey’s love of bathing, she’d discreetly gifted her several purple bottles--shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and lotion, all scented with the same heady fragrance--prettily floral, but with a very sharp undertone. The overall effect was of a beautiful flower with lethal thorns.

Rey loved her scent, but wondered where it came from. It had to have been expensive; the bottles were fancy and their origin was stamped as Gatalenta. She knew that it wasn’t the General’s own personal fragrance, but she also knew that it was somehow special.

Even with his face aflame, Ben saw no reason to tell Rey that he was in the awkward position of lusting after a woman who smelled of his Aunt Amilyn.

But that faded away as he knew that he’d already seen her, felt her, smelled her, heard her . . . no, now, now, he must taste her.

*******

He was sweet and bitter on her tongue and all through her mouth and in her nose and under her hands and in her ears and everywhere his skin touched hers. She didn’t know where to put any of it.

She tasted, looked, felt, sounded, smelled like a complete version of one of his dreams, touching him, tantalizing him while he slept, but he was always still suddenly cold when he woke.

He wasn’t cold now. No, he was desert-hot wherever her body touched his.

The heat reached an equilibrium, after a point. His gaze stopped scorching her; her touch stopped burning him. He would have self-immolated without a thought, but he was glad he didn’t have to. Her taste was what he’d been craving without knowing. Her soft sounds of pleasure were that tune that had been just out of reach of his mind, the one he could swear he’d heard before, but just couldn’t place.

It didn’t matter where he’d heard the tune before, when it filled his ears and his mind as he slid inside her, moved with her. It didn’t matter that she’d had a terrible aversion to heat, when she’d finally found a warmth that she was drawn to, even straining toward it as she took him on her and in her.

There were still very real concerns and issues and problems. But the walls of the cheap little room stood bravely against anything that might disturb them for now. Both deserved the love they’d come there for. The galaxy could survive another few hours without them.

**Author's Note:**

> Tusen takk to flawlesssorcerersupreme for tolerating at least one meltdown over this fic, but still making me a gorgeous moodboard, to situation-normal and saturninefeline for their support, and to MH for the smørbrød and concho belt.


End file.
